


A Different Truth

by implicit_despair



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn (as much as you can get in a one shot), Sorry?, Why are they so stubborn, can't they just kiss, canon compliant (sort of), this fandom needs more fics so here i am doing my service for this community, this is kinda angst overload, we love good banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/implicit_despair/pseuds/implicit_despair
Summary: A reimagining of chapter 28, if their conversation had gone down a different path.[Or: Lauren and Kieran pining for each other while trying to keep a straight face in their conversation because they don't want the other to know about their feelings.]
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	A Different Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This came out a lot most angsty than I had intended it to be and I'm probably reading too much into their characters but let me have this one, okay? My google doc's name is just "angst let's gooooooo" if that's any indication of what you're about to read.
> 
> Highly recommend rereading chapter 28 (or even reading it at side by side) just for a refresher since the first half of this dialogue is taken directly from the episode.
> 
> Also, there might be a few grammatical errors here and there so don't mind:D

The words come out before she has time to think them through. 

“When people lie,” Lauren starts, keeping her eyes glued onto the paper she’s holding. “I can hear a change of pitch in their voice. Just like how most people can distinguish sarcasm, I get to hear it even in the subtlest of lies.”

Kieran whips his head around towards the officer’s voice, collars flared, shirt still half-buttoned. There were many things he wished she would tell him, and while this had been one of them, he wasn’t expecting now to be the time she would reveal herself. 

_Why had she been so reluctant to tell me before_? he wonders, but he knows the answer perfectly well. He is the Purple Hyacinth and her ability, while helpful as Lune, is more of a curse when she’s Lauren. A vulnerability. He sees the burden of knowing the truths weighing down on her, every step she takes, every lie of her own she has to tell. The guilt must be overbearing; to know everyone’s truths, and being able to keep her own a secret.

And he’s right. With every word she speaks, it feels like a weight being pulled off her back. Finally, _finally_ , someone knows what she has to live with. Even if they don’t understand it--she especially doesn’t expect Kieran to understand it, of all people. His very coexistence as Kieran White and the Purple Hyacinth is a lie in itself--this is enough for her. 

“But,” she continues, trying to keep herself occupied with the other words on the paper, but compared to the ones coming out of her mouth, they mean nothing. “Catching the lie doesn’t tell me the truth behind it. Some lies conceal too many possibilities. And I can only hear it if someone says something they don’t _actually_ believe. If they truly believe something, that’s objectively false, it’ll sound true to me.” 

Kieran faces her back now, his practised grin painted on his face, a pure expression of cool. “Interesting,” he says. “Fascinating, actually.” And he means it. Even someone who doesn’t have Lauren’s sense would be able to tell. “And you’ve always had this ability?”

“For as long as I can remember, yes,” she answers. Lauren can feel his gaze on her back, but she refuses to turn around and meet it. Refuses to let him see the gears in her brain whirring about the events that had transpired just a few hours ago. Refuses to look at him and feel indebted. 

“Why reveal that to me now?” Just like everything else he’s said, it’s a genuine question. A while ago they had been facing off enemies on a rooftop underneath the pale moonlight, and now here they were, bruised, but patched up, wills still blazing, ready to tackle on another mission. She should be talking about who to interrogate next. That was the Lauren he had come to know. 

His question sends her head snapping up, the paper not providing enough of a good distraction. “Why did you save me?” The words had been buzzing in her head for a good part of the last hour. She can still envision him on that roof, blade raised and sprayed with blood, eyes focused with another emotion possibly mixed in, but she knows how ridiculous the possibility is.

_Anger?_ She lets herself imagine.

When he doesn’t answer, she finally gives in, finally turns to face him, finally looks those serene blue eyes gaze upon her questioningly, sizing her up. 

“Well, if you died, I’d be back to square one, wouldn’t I?” he answers, looking away. If she wasn’t going to answer his question, he might as well indulge her. After all, this seems to be one of the only times she’s not hell-bent on putting a bullet into his forehead. “I need our partnership for my little vendetta as much as you do for yours.”

_It’s the truth_ , Lauren realizes. But the way he’s the first to break their little staring contest tells her otherwise. The Kieran she had come to know wouldn’t shy away from anything.

“You said you only kill if you’re ordered to or if it’s the only option,” she presses, watching him turn away even farther into himself. “So, which one was it?” A pang of guilt shoots through her; she knows she should stop questioning him now, should just leave it at that--he wasn’t lying, anyway. But something inside her, not her ability, tells her to find out. Her heart, or her conscience, she can’t decide which.

Kieran stares at the carpeted floor of his cave (he had picked it out himself--what impeccable taste he had). He would rather be anywhere but here, his cave, his own sanctuary. But it isn’t just _his_ , is it? No, it’s theirs. And it’s been theirs for longer than Kieran has realized it. 

He makes a dismissing gesture with his hand, not bothering to look at her as he responds. “Firstly, you know I don’t take orders from _you_.”

This makes her laugh. A short, breathy sound, but he would do anything to hear it again. The thought that he could make someone feel anything other than pain and anguish...what a fantasy to revel in.

“Sure, subordinate.”

“And so officer, by the very kind process of elimination, surely you would be able to deduct the true answer?” He clamps his lips to prevent himself from adding, “You were a detective once, weren’t you? The answer should’ve been as clear as day to you.” Kieran knows it will hurt if he says that, but maybe he should. A bit of hostility in this partnership is the only thing keeping him from--

“You really expect me to believe that killing him was the only option?” Lauren asks. She crosses her arms as an annoyed school teacher would, and Kieran feels like the student being called out in front of everyone else.

He shrugs, but he still does not look her way. “He was about to take a swing at you or push you off the roof, both situations which would’ve resulted in your death,” he says instead of what he wants to. “I thought quickly.” 

And that is the truth, he _did_ make the decision quickly. Hell, even faster than that. Instinct. It was instinct, a reflex if you will, to eliminate her threat. There might have been other options, but at that moment, there wasn’t. At least, not to him. 

_Was I the Purple Hyacinth when I did that or was I Kieran White?_ he asks himself. He does not know the answer, nor does he think he’d _want_ to know.

“It clearly wasn’t the only option,” Lauren says. “If I may recall your words, you were planning on letting me burn.” Now she’s the one looking at her partner’s back. Is he...sad? No, she shakes herself out of the thought. He would never dare to look anything but confident in front of her.

_In front of Officer Sinclair, or Lauren?_ she wonders.

On the other side of the cave, Kieran clenches and unclenches the fist hidden from her sight. He pulls the strings attached to his mouth upwards, forces his eyes to glint that same mischievous look they always do, and with a count of three, turns to face his partner once again.

“Are you not burning?” He quirks a brow. “Burning in the shame of letting the infamous Purple Hyacinth be the one to save you?”

“Oh, haha,” she deadpans, switching the paper in her hand for another, actually focusing on the words on this one. “I was perfectly capable of handling myself there, subordinate.” 

Heat spreads in his chest, not from his own wounds, but from this. Back to their usual dynamic. Not like they could have a proper heart-to-heart without one of them lying or without raising their weapons. He understands that they both have boundaries, and he won’t step over them. But for now, he steps towards the board where she stands. 

“If I remember correctly, you were about to fall off a roof,” he smirks sidelong at her. “That would’ve been the second time you’ve fallen for me, officer. Am I that charming?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Kieran.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lauren.”

And there they stand, side by side, barely a foot apart, focusing on everything but each other. Lune, they call themselves. But--they would never admit that they’ve thought about this--what if they could call themselves something different? Put a different name over their partnership?

Lauren lets herself sneak a glance at the assassin and shakes her head. Not at the pitiful display he’s putting of pretending to be intrigued by the board, but at his collars, still turned up. _So improper for a gentleman_ , she thinks. But looking down at her own shirt, she can’t be one to criticize. 

Kieran suddenly feels a hand at the nape of his neck, the slightest brush of fingers, and his own hands go flying to his left hip, where his blade would typically lay. But his hands come around nothing.

“Calm yourself, subordinate,” Lauren mocks. She’s standing impossibly close to him now, features illuminated in the slight moonlight that enters his--their--cave. Her eyes glint as they focus on folding down his collar and Kieran thinks for a second that the faint whisper of her skin on his couldn’t have been an accident.

Kieran steels his expression, throwing away the momentary surprise. “So insistent on making sure I look my best, aren’t you, officer? Good thing I always look absolutely dazzling.”

“No,” Lauren says plainly, hands coming back down to her sides. “Your stupid collar was bothering the hell out of me.”

“If you want to play around with my clothes, you need just ask. It’s not a shameful thing to want, many women would jump at the chance to, actually.”

She claps him on the back, the exact spot where the cuts are, and he freezes up in pain as she laughs and returns to her papers. “Mhm. Totally believable.”

Kieran allows himself one last glance before actually paying attention to the leads in front of him.

They stand closer now. Whether by design or by coincidence, but neither one makes any move to widen the gap. In the winter chill, they can only feel each other’s warmth through the thin layers of clothes they wear. Through the meagre patch of space between them.

Maybe she is burning. Maybe he is too. Maybe they’re both burning in feelings neither one wants to delve deeper into lest they get hurt. Lest this partnership turns into something more deadly than the Phantom Scythe themselves.

But for now, they can stand the heat.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Ending: Kieran pushes Lauren against the board and they kiss, but we love a good slow-burn, don't we? 
> 
> :' )


End file.
